


if I give you my heart, will you promise not to break it?

by janie_tangerine



Series: hearts fic thing series [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, BAMF Brienne of Tarth, Brienne of Tarth is the Best, Declarations Of Love, Dissociation, F/M, Hearts, Hurt/Comfort, I Blame Tumblr, Jaime Lannister Has Issues, Jaime Lannister Needs a Hug, Minor Cersei Lannister/Jaime Lannister, Past Incest, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Quite Literally, Sharing a Bed, Sort Of, Soulmates, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Tournaments, Weddings, at the end of it it REAAAALLY is, really it is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-04
Updated: 2020-02-04
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:20:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22561636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/janie_tangerine/pseuds/janie_tangerine
Summary: “It’s not broken,” she protests.“Please,” Ronnet goes on, “it’s all red. Red hearts like that are broken and their owners are either useless or more effort than they’re worth. ‘Course you would get a broken one, who else would want you?”“It’s not,” Brienne hisses, and at that he stops talking. She realizes her voice had turned cold. Very cold. A coldness that doesn’t belong to her, she’s never sounded like that, but it seems to come from the pulsing warmth in her hands, again - “and the day I find him you’ll see he’s not broken or damaged or unworthy. And I sure as the seven hells hope no one got saddled with yours.in which soulmates find each other through one of them having the other's heart.or, in which Brienne gets a mostly broken one the day Jaime Lannister kills Aerys Targaryen.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Series: hearts fic thing series [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1623322
Comments: 167
Kudos: 533





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> OKAY SO, this happened because an anon sent me on tumblr an ask saying _Yet another crack tale to entertain you. So, someone's heart always end up with the person they're meant to be with. It doesn't happen often, but it does. The day Jaime kills Aerys is the day he stops feeling his heart beating against his chest. People call him stuff and he thinks he must be heartless cuz he no longer has a heart. He doesn't know that Brienne of Tarth is the one who has his heart and the day they meet, she's supposed to give it back. But that doesn't happen until much later._ It... spiraled.... into me taking prompts from random scenes for the au in question which by the way is nowhere near crack at this point, so I'm posting them all here - it's not like a _full blown_ fic but it's enough to be one. I also owe an anon the outsider Tyrion POV so this one will be updated again at some point but that's the basics of it for now. Have fun. I don't even know.
> 
> Also: title from Lucinda Williams (I HAVE BEEN WAITING YEARS TO USE THIS SONG FOR A TITLE NOW I'M DOING IT), they belong to GRRM, I own nothing, I'll saunter back downwards to post the entire thing plus one of the planned sequels with another ship. xD 
> 
> First chapter's prompt was: _y'know, i can't help it, but i just imagined brienne going to her father excited and saying, papa, look, i've got a heart! and selwyn realizes that the heart ain't looking so well as far as hearts go, so he sits his daughter down and tells her how she has to take care of this heart. and brienne being all solemn, swearing that she'll take care of this heart._

Brienne is five when _it_ appears on her bed.

It’s the middle of the night, and she’s sleeping, but at some point the mattress becomes _hot_ and she wakes up immediately, wondering what’s wrong with it -

And then she sees that at the bottom of her bed there’s something _glowing_.

Suddenly, the mattress’s heat doesn’t matter any more as she crawls out of the sheets and towards that light. For a moment it’s blinding, but then it lowers down a bit, and then some more, until it goes from white to a beautiful golden color -

And it _beats_.

It’s strange, because as it is it looks like a ball of light, large enough to fit in her cupped palms, but when she takes it, it pulses against her skin. It moves ever so slightly, in and out, in and out, and first it’s _racing_ , beat after beat after beat, and then it becomes slower, more regular, and Brienne keeps on staring down at it in fascination, wondering what it could be -

And then it _changes._ The golden light stays, but as absurd as it seems, she starts seeing red cracks in it, not enough to break the entire thing apart but bleeding darker red light that merges with the golden hue on the outside. Brienne blinks, her thumb brushing over the surface of that pulsing gold, and then she understands at once what it is.

Oh.

_Oh_.

She’s heard the whispers behind her back - she’s young, but she’s not deaf, and Septa Roelle _did_ give her that harsh lesson about looking in the mirror.

_Poor girl, with that face she’ll never get anyone’s heart._

_How sad._

_Hey, better for the other guy - who’d want to give their heart to someone so ugly?_

She - she knows that when you’re meant to be with someone, _really_ meant to be, sometimes their heart makes its way to you and you’ll only give it back to them when you meet. It’s in all the songs. But she never thought she’d get one.

And now -

She thinks she _does_ have one. What else can it be, since it’s beating inside her palms?

She immediately gets out of the bed, feeling thankful for the umpteenth time that her father stayed home and didn’t go to war, just sent soldiers, and knocks at his door frantically until he opens it.

“Brienne, it’s the middle of the - _what the_ -” He says as he looks down at her and at the golden light in between her palms.

“I - I was sleeping and then my bed turned so hot I had to wake up and that was - that just appeared out of nowhere. I - I have a heart!” She says, unable to contain the excitement, even if the moment she says it, she feels a wave of sadness come over her. She doesn’t know from _where_ , but it makes her face fall just as she says it.

“Hey,” Father asks, “what’s wrong?”

“Nothing, uh, I just… felt really sad for a moment.”

“You know what,” he says, “get in.”

Brienne walks into his room and gets on the bed, still carefully holding the heart. She holds it out for Father to look at better, but she doesn’t let it go. His eyes narrow as he inspects it, and he mutters something under his breath as he sees the cracks. He touches it for a second and then retreats his hand at once.

“It’s… not _burning_ to you, is it?”

“No,” Brienne says. “It’s warm. _Oh_.” The moment she says it, she feels _sadder_ than before, tears coming to her eyes. “I don’t know what’s wrong,” she says as she wipes them with a hand, holding the heart with the other. “I’m not -”

“I think it’s not you,” Father says. “I think it’s the heart.”

“… How?”

He sighs. “I had your mother’s. And - I’m not, I mean, I’ve never seen that many, but hers was all bright. And light blue. And if I touched it I felt… either happy or, you know, worried, and I found out because we met at a ball at court and she wasn’t sure her father would accept my proposal. She told me later. And hers had stopped beating all the time I had it. Anyway, this one - isn’t looking too well.”

“It’s not?”

He shakes his head. “You see the cracks? The light is _red_. Unless it was red in the first place… it’s not normal.”

“Uh. When I got it first, it was racing. The beats, I mean.”

“Was it,” Father says. He looks back down at it, and that’s when he sees that the golden light dims a bit. It still stays there, though. There’s a bit more red now, but -

“I think,” Father finally says, “that whoever this belongs to, they - they aren’t doing very good right now. I mean, as far as hearts go, this looks… pretty battered. And I don’t like that it’s becoming redder by the moment.”

“But the golden light is so beautiful,” Brienne says. “It can’t belong to someone bad.”

“Oh, I can see that. I think it belongs to someone good. Someone who is really not doing well right now. And - it’s not my experience, but from what I know about hearts like this… well, you have to take really special care of it. I don’t know if it will make it better for sure… but you can’t just leave it there waiting for him to show up. You have to look after it.”

“I will,” Brienne says at once. “Of course I will. I swear it.”

“I knew you would,” her father smiles, and she sleeps there that night, keeping the heart curled against her chest.

— — 

Her septa tries to convince her to keep it at least on the nightstand, but when it becomes redder and redder in the next few days, Brienne refuses and puts her foot down. She brings it under the covers, her fingertips brushing over the golden-red light, noticing that the more she does it the more the red retreats a bit.

It’s always back the next morning, though, but as Father would say, there hasn’t been a moment in Brienne’s life when she wasn’t stubborn, and so she doesn’t give up on it.

— —

The day she decides that she’d rather be a knight than a lady for good, because she’s done with people making fun of her whenever she shows up in dresses and she had already started seeing the appeal of a sword in her hands and the allure of being in songs singing of her brave deeds and not of her ugly face, it’s the day Ronnet Connington comes with his family for a visit on Tarth.

(Her father has never betrothed her and hasn’t tried - he knows she has the heart, and he said he would feel horrible promising her to anyone that’s not the owner. He also has seen that it’s been seven years and the red hasn’t retreated.)

She overhears him talking to someone, saying that no one would ever want her anyway, not when she looks like a sow in silk.

“You know,” she blurts, “I _do_ have my intended’s heart. I just haven’t met him yet.” She probably shouldn’t have said it. But it just came out of her, hoping that it would shut him up.

“And I won’t believe it until I see it,” he sneers.

She goes back upstairs and takes it, and when he sees it he _laughs_.

“Oh, of course _you_ got a broken one.”

“It’s not _broken_ ,” she protests.

“Please,” Ronnet goes on, “it’s all red. Red hearts like _that_ are broken and their owners are either useless or more effort than they’re worth. ‘Course _you_ would get a broken one, who else would want you?”

“It’s _not_ ,” Brienne hisses, and at that he stops talking. She realizes her voice had turned cold. _Very_ cold. A coldness that doesn’t belong to her, she’s never sounded like that, but it seems to come from the pulsing warmth in her hands, _again_ \- “and the day I find him you’ll see he’s not broken or damaged or unworthy. And I sure as the seven hells hope no one got saddled with yours.”

_That_ shuts him up.

She smiles as she goes back upstairs. No one sees her, but if they had, they’d have thought her grin was sharper than usual.

When she goes back into the room, she places it back on the nightstand, caressing it.

“I’m going to become a knight,” she swears to it, seeing the red retreating ever so slightly, “and I’ll find you, and I’ll give this back to you, and I’ll make sure no one calls you broken to your face. That’s what knights do, don’t they?”

It pulses under her hands, still glowing.

It’s such a lovely shade of gold, Brienne thinks.

A really, _really_ lovely shade.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which Jaime has a Very Bad Time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was for the prompt _You said to asks you for a particular scene, so, how about J thinking he's heartless for years cuz he seems to have no heart?_
> 
> **WARNINGS FOR THIS ONE** : there's implied/past/minor jaime/cersei, dissociation, ptsd, abuse, implications of nonconsensual/dubious consensual sex in between jc after they break up and all the usual Jaime Has Issues baggage. nothing graphic but you've been warned. don't worry it's the worst one and then it's all downhill xD

Jaime is not so surprised that the moment Ned Stark assumes he’s the worst kind of oathbreaker, his heart stops beating at once.

Of course it would.

Considering what he’s just done, it just makes sense that it would.

_Surely Cersei has it_ , he thinks. No one else ever could get it. There is no way it could have gone to anyone else. He knows how it works. He’s heard all the songs, more than once. Honestly, he was surprised that Cersei’s heart never went to him yet, or viceversa, but he had figured it was a matter of time.

After all, of course their hearts belong to each other.

How could they not?

He puts his hand on the left side of his chest.

Silence.

Of course there’s silence.

But - at least the war is over. He’ll see Cersei again soon. And then she’ll give it back to him, and it’ll go back the way it was. It _has_ to.

– –

“I don’t have it,” Cersei sneers as he asks, the first thing he does the moment they’re alone for the first time.

“You – you don’t?” He asks, hating how small his voice sounds.

“No,” she says, and her voice sounds so cold, so _cold_ \- “How _could_ you?” She asks again, and he feels like crying, but tears don’t come to him, his eyes burn but nothing pools there, and of course it wouldn’t, he doesn’t have a heart, does he –

“I – I didn’t do anything,” he protests. “I just – it went away when – when I killed him,” he lies, not knowing why he’s doing it, but somehow it feels like the right thing to do. “I thought it would go to you. I was sure –”

“Well, it hasn’t. _How could you_?” She asks, and then, “I guess it was too much to ask some faithfulness out of you,” and she leaves, slamming the door, as if it was _his_ choice, as if he gave it to someone else willingly when it only ever was hershershers _hers_ –

His eyes burn.

No tears fall from them.

He laughs, and it sounds so hollow he’d be scared of himself, if he could give a single damn about it.

– –

It’s common knowledge, after then. Cersei probably told someone, and news spread.

People whisper behind his back. Of course the kingslayer _has no heart_ , it all makes sense, it most likely went away because no one would ever want such an oathbreaker after _that_ and even the gods were repulsed.

He pretends he doesn’t hear that.

He pretends he doesn’t for a long time.

But as Cersei marries Robert and scorns him all the while when he’s only here because _she_ asked him to and _she_ convinced him to, he touches the left side of his chest again.

He thinks it’s warmer than usual. But then it goes away.

He probably made it up.

– –

Of course, the Lord Commander doesn’t particularly care for it when Jaime asks if he can please not be assigned to his sister’s protection.

“You will watch whoever has the need,” Ser Barristan replies.

Of course he does. Jaime wants to scream at him. He doesn’t. He just nods and says of course he will.

– –

“You know,” Tyrion tells him quietly a long time later, “you’re not yourself anymore.”

“Haven’t you heard?” Jaime snorts. “I have no heart. Of course I’m not.”

“No, that’s - exactly _you_. I mean that when you do anything that’s not talking to me - it seems like you’re not even there. You talk like you don’t care. And I know that you _do_. I can see it.”

He bites his tongue. It tastes bloody. He can’t exactly tell Tyrion that he barely even remembers four days out of the entire last month because he goes away inside half of the time now, can he?

“I’m fine,” he shrugs. “I always am.”

“No you’re not,” Tyrion says, “and I know I’m right. You never really were. But whatever suits you.”

He leaves after that — he’s sounded detached since their father ruined his marriage to that poor crofter’s daughter without Jaime knowing beforehand, or he could have stopped it, and Jaime shakes his head, and suddenly he feels like crying all over again.

He doesn’t.

– –

He’s not there when Cersei’s first child is born.

He’s not there when the second is born.

They both have green eyes and black Baratheon hair. Of course they do.

He’s there for the third, waiting outside the room, hating that in another life it could have been _his_ child, and then he remembers that he couldn’t have fathered them anyway, and he remembers the couple of times Cersei sought him out since she became queen, when she was angry with Robert – he never said no but he didn’t say yes either and he went away inside during both of them.

_As if you care anyway_ , she had said after.

Sure he doesn’t.

He has no heart, after all.

And he honestly hopes that it really just went away as people whisper, because who’d want _him_ the moment they found out to whom that heart belonged? A kingslayer without honor and the fame he has? No, better that no one has it at all. Maybe it’s for the best. Maybe Cersei deserved better than what Aerys turned him into, anyway.

He’s thinking _that_ –

Until the left side of his chest feels _warm_ , so very warm, as if someone is touching it with rough fingers, and he feels like a breeze running through his hair the way Cersei’s fingers used to, and he doesn’t hear anything but he _feels_ like someone just whispered into his ear that they’ll find him one day, and that’s completely ridiculous because he couldn’t even distinguish the voice and no one could possibly want to find him, he knows damaged hearts are visibly so and a lot of them get thrown away if the receiver doesn’t want to handle it, and no one could keep _his_ for years. Not this long. No one would _want_ to. Not when even his other half didn’t –

He hears a baby crying softly from the other side of the door, not as loud as Joffrey, not as strongly as Myrcella.

His eyes burn, he still doesn’t cry and his heart still doesn’t beat.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which Brienne finds whom her heart belongs to and wins a tournament.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was for _would you be wanting to write something on jaime and brienne meeting and/or jaime/brienne realising that brienne has jaime's heart?_ Have some more fluff to come *cough*

Brienne had debated taking the heart with.

It’s not like going off in the world to be a knight wouldn’t imply automatically a danger to it, and she doesn’t want to risk any harm coming to it, but then again… this is her chance to get away from her island and earn at least some respect as a warrior if not knighthood, and how is she ever going to meet her intended if she doesn’t bring it with?

So she had. Then she had joined Renly Baratheon at King’s Landing because he had been courteous to her during his trip to Tarth the way no one else had been, even if she had known that _her_ heart wasn’t his. In another world maybe she’d have fallen for him, but not in this one where she’s had someone else’s heart for thirteen years and she’s seen how it fought so hard to stay golden while red poured through the cracks, and even if whoever’s the owner won’t want her, she still feels like she has a duty to find him first. Renly had been sending word that he wanted more knights for his guard and she had been happy to answer the call.

Sadly, she wasn’t the only one, and even if she had won the melee to decide who out of the fifty knights who showed up would join that guard, the king said that women in _anyone’s_ guard would be a jape and the queen had agreed and the crown prince too, and Renly had shrugged apologetically and told her that she still could get the prize money and choose a queen of love and beauty, if only for show.

She had never thought proving herself would be easy.

Not after people started courting her in the few weeks they waited camping outside King’s Landing to be admitted and she had turned them all down because she had a heart that belonged to someone else, and then she had found out they had _bet_ money on taking her maidenhead.

Still, she had wished it would be less humiliating.

She sighs, accepting as gracefully as she can – if she can’t have a title or a place in Renly’s guard, she might at least get out of this tournament making sure the others remember her. She glances around, and then –

“What a bunch of cowards,” she hears whispered from her left, and she turns as her eyes meet Ser Jaime Lannister’s.

Right.

_The kingslayer._ She had no idea he would be here, rumor is that he doesn’t really attend tourneys nor joins them, lately. He’s at his younger nephew’s side, and she’s sure he didn’t think she’d hear him, but as her stare meets green eyes that look so dull she’s taken aback for a moment, he shrugs minutely, and even if his eyes are dull and his stance belongs to someone exceedingly bored with the entire spectacle…

She knows she heard him right.

_What a bunch of cowards,_ he said.

There is no way he’s referring to anything that’s not their lack to take her seriously.

Well then.

She takes a good look at him. A _very_ good look at him. He’s - well. Certainly handsome. As much as she’s upset by the way he’s looking at her, at his nephew, at the entire place, he still cuts a striking figure, with that white armor and those green eyes and that golden, fair hair, exactly the kind of man that belongs in songs, too bad he’s universally reviled and she shouldn’t even look at him, not when he killed his king and rumor says he has no heart –

_Except_ , a small voice tells her, _how satisfying would it be to make everyone talk about this_? The more she considers it, the more _perfect_ it seems: if she crowns _him_ , a man that everyone pretends isn’t there from what she knows, same as they would like to pretend _she_ hasn’t bested fifty other men? She usually isn’t _this_ petty, she doesn’t know where the thought came from, but – but it feels right. So she clears her throat.

“Very well,” she says. “I will… crown a queen of love and beauty, if you would be so kind.”

She accepts the crown of pale orange roses, then she pretends to look around for spectacle, and then she heads straight for him.

At _that_ , his eyes look a bit less dull, his lips part, he mouths _what are you doing_ , and she doesn’t even say anything before stopping in front of him.

And _then_ the sun comes out of the clouds and its rays fall on his head, and for a moment she stops dead in her tracks because now that she sees it, the color of his hair is _the exact same gold as the heart she’s carefully keeping hidden in her tent_ , and oh, _oh_ , suddenly it all makes sense, and rumor might say he’s _heartless_ but of course he might be, and wait, it appeared in her room thirteen years ago, give or take, and now that she thinks about it that’s exactly when he killed Aerys, isn’t it –

Oh.

It’s _his_.

It’s always been _his_ , hasn’t it –

And if it’s _his_ then there _has_ to be some valid reason he did what he did, because she knows that heart can’t belong to someone dishonorable, and now he’s looking at her like he can’t believe she’s about to do it –

_Well then_.

“Ser Jaime,” she says, her voice very clear, “would you be so kind?”

For a moment, he looks about to ask her if she’s serious, but he obviously sees that she is, because then his eyes – that are _very_ bright and not dull right now – lower and he bends his head just enough to let her place the crown on top of it.

She smiles to herself ever so slightly as she lowers it down, very gently.

When he raises his head and looks at her as if he can’t believe she actually _did_ it, she half-smiles back.

The color, she thinks, really becomes him.

And the moment the noise dies down, she _is_ giving him that heart back.

And _then_ she will ask him how he lost it in the first place.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which Brienne gives Jaime his heart back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was for _a continuation of JB hearts after all the noise dies?_ HAVE ALL THE FLUFF.

“Just out of mere curiosity,” Ser Jaime whispers as they head for the Red Keep, because of course there will be a feast for _the chosen in Renly’s guard_ , and Brienne already knows that she will be ignored even if she had won the melee, but right now it doesn’t really matter, does it, “have you chosen me just so you could put a tombstone on your already meager chances of having these idiots take you seriously?”

If anyone else had said it, she’d have taken offense.

But now that he is, she’s not. He’s probably right.

He also is the owner of _her heart_ , isn’t he.

She shrugs minutely. “They were never going to regardless,” she answers. “ _You_ were the only one who said anything about how I deserved that win. And I would as soon make sure they know I won’t just bend my head and tell them they’re right. I came ready to suffer humiliations, but not if they don’t gain me anything in return.”

His green eyes look sharper now, more than they had been in the pit. “So you thought you’d embarrass them even further? Nice,” he says approvingly. “One wouldn’t think you so _petty_ , looking at you.”

“I usually am not,” she agrees. “But sometimes… it just feels right.”

“You _do_ know that you have been talking to me since we left the pit and that people are watching, though?”

“I crowned you, Ser. Why wouldn’t I talk to you after?”

“People _don’t_ talk to me,” he shakes his head. “And now that you are, you have absolutely ruined most of your chances of anyone ever taking you seriously. You _do_ know, don’t you? I slew my king and I _don’t have a heart_ , I’m not the company you want.”

She can hear that he resents it. She can just hear it, and maybe it’s because she’s held his heart in her hands for years, but she knows instantly that it pains him that it’s so.

“Ser, you might want to listen to what people are whispering then,” she says quietly. He raises an eyebrow but then nods and pays attention for the next few minutes. Nothing that Brienne hasn’t heard before.

_Look at them. She has to be as ugly as he is inside._

_Of course someone with her face would crown a heartless man._

_And what a knight would she be. No one needs another kingslayer_.

“I’ve heard _that_ since I took a sword in hand,” she whispers. “And the comments about my… appearance, they came long before. I want to be a knight, but I don’t want it playing along with _that_. I’ll take any company that at least values me somehow.”

He nods in understanding, biting down on his lip for a moment. “Then suit yourself, my lady,” he says. “You will _not_ like the feast.”

Brienne knows that already.

That’s not the point.

– –

The feast is as bad as he had predicted. No one pays attention to her and if they do it’s to sneer at her or look at her as if they wish she could just disappear and save them the embarrassment.

When it comes to Ser Jaime, though, the only person who seems to talk to him like they _care_ is his brother – his father barely even looks at him, his sister glares daggers his way half of the time, not to subtly belittles him whenever she talks about him and Brienne can see she makes sure her children are with some other guard. The whispers are still there, for the both of them, and if he’s not talking to his brother or his brother’s sellsword, Ser Jaime’s green eyes go back to looking dull and lifeless, and suddenly she thinks she understands a lot –

Except that they weren’t dull when he talked to _her_.

And he’s still wearing her crown, which makes her inordinately pleased for reasons she should probably dwell upon –

“So what,” the king asks after more wine than Brienne would have ever cared for, “does my good brother enjoy walking around with flowers in his hair like some helpless maiden?”

Brienne’s hands clutch her glass.

Ser Jaime looks at his king with a glare so sharp it could pierce. “Does _my_ good brother not walk around with his rightful crown? I’ve never seen a king renounce his own, I better not give mine up if I want to keep up the good name of the institution.”

Thing is, he could have said it in a mocking tone. But Brienne can hear it – he’s deadly serious. And he wasn’t amused. And he doesn’t smile in a way that reaches his eyes.

The king realizes that it’s a lost cause and changes subject. Everyone pretends it didn’t happen. Ser Jaime excuses himself for a moment and Brienne can see that his sister digs her nail into his wrist for a few moments before he finally moves to the corner of the room.

No one is paying attention to her.

She thinks maybe it’s time.

“Ser?” She whispers, joining him.

“What do you want?”

“I – there is something I should tell you. In private. Would – would you join me in the room they gave me after this is done?”

He thinks about it. “Very well,” he finally says. “I will.”

She nods and leaves him be.

His eyes go dull again.

– –

A few hours later, she’s taken off her armor and put it in the corner of the small room she was given – of course, she’s to leave in three days, she has no reason to be here and she knows she’s not welcome. But she doesn’t need three days for _this_.

The knock on the door comes just as she has put on a clean shirt – she opens the door and there _he_ is, wearing white garb only but no armor nor sword. She nods, ushering him in.

“So,” he asks, sounding at least amused, “what is this thing you should tell me in _private,_ my lady?”

She breathes in. “See,” she says, “I – I noticed you because of what you said. And I would have crowned you regardless just to make them angry, but – then I realized something. That I couldn’t tell you back then.” She breathes again, then reaches for her best saddlebag, opening it. “And I think I have something of yours.”

The corner of his mouth quirks upwards. “Something of _mine_? Considering that we haven’t met before today, that sounds a tad strange.”

“It’s not – well. I _think_ it’s yours. I’m actually fairly confident it is.”

“Show me, then,” he shrugs, and she knows he’s not taking this seriously, but that’s all right. He will, shortly. She reaches into the bag where she had another smaller leather pouch, where she has placed _it_ , wrapped in red silk that she tore off one of the dresses that looked horrible on her anyway. She takes it out, moves the silk away –

And she can hear him gasp as she uncovers the golden heart, and now that she looks at it… it’s not as red as it was when she last checked on it. It’s retreated a bit, more than it ever has in all these years even if it’s still there, and when she raises her eyes and meets his own, she can see that all the blood drained from his face.

He opens his mouth, closes it, frozen on the spot, then he looks at her and his eyes aren’t dull now. His eyes look _desperate_. So it _has_ to be his. He probably felt it.

“You – I thought it had just gone,” he says, his voice trembling.

“… Just _gone_? That’s – not how it works.”

He shakes his head. “I thought – there was only one person that could have had it, and she didn’t, and so – after what happened – it just made sense that it would go away. Who else would even _want_ it?” He sounds like he’s about to laugh. Not in the good way, though.

“Can – can I ask when it had… gone? When you killed –”

“No,” Ser Jaime says, taking a step forward. “No. It went when Lord Stark came inside that room, didn’t ask why I did it and assumed that – I did it because I had been in agreement with my father,” he says, painfully. “And – that was it. But – _you’_ ve had it all this time?” He sounds like he can’t believe it.

“Ser,” she says, “do you think _I_ ever expected that I would… have someone’s heart? _Anyone’_ s? Of course I’ve had it. And it spared me a lot of suffering, I think.”

“… It did.”

“For one, I was never betrothed to anyone because it wouldn’t have been right. And considering everything, I think it was my luck. But other than that… you never killed your king out of wrong reasons, didn’t you?”

“ _How_ –” He starts, shaking his head, his fingers trembling wildly. She wants to touch them, but – she can’t. It wouldn’t be proper now.

“The moment I saw it I thought it was beautiful. It was all bright and then it was all golden, and – then it cracked, but I could see that it wasn’t fixed. That red, it – it moves. Sometimes it’s less, sometimes it’s more, but it’s obvious that it couldn’t belong to someone truly dishonorable. I’ve looked at it since, Ser. I can’t know what went on exactly… but I know what I saw in it.”

He makes a noise in the back of his throat, his eyes falling down to the ball of light in her hands. “He wanted to burn the entire city,” he whispers. “He had wildfire underneath it all. It’s still there, though no one knows where exactly or I’d have taken care of it. His – the people he ordered, they would have lighted it.” She has to move closer, barely able to hear him. “I _had_ to,” he finally says, sounding like it’s paining him to say it, “and no one ever asked since.”

Of course it was cracked, of course it _was_ –

“Ser,” she says, not unaware of how he seems to shudder if she calls him by his proper title, “I – I have been honored to carry it for this long. But I really think you should have it back.”

He nods once, taking a step back. “Shit,” he says, “how does this even work? It’s not like I’ve ever seen it happen.”

“Don’t you listen to songs?” She asks, trying to lighten the mood. “You, uh, need to uncover your breast. That’s it.”

“At least one thing is easy,” he mutters, and unlaces his shirt, enough to move it downwards and uncovering the left side of his chest. Brienne spares a moment to notice that it has fine, soft golden hair over its skin, and then she shakes her head, takes a deep breath, raises the heart and gently, gently places it against his skin.

A moment later, the light flares brighter, the red disappearing completely under the gold before it slips past his skin and makes it glow for a few moments –

And then he takes in a deep, deep breath as Brienne’s fingers, still touching his skin, feel that beat she knows even too well except where it belongs – she keeps them there for a moment just to make sure nothing’s wrong, and then she makes to move her hand back but suddenly his own moves upwards and grasps her wrist so tight it almost hurts, pressing it there.

“Ser –” She says, and then her breath dies in her throat because when he looks back up at her his face is covered in tears and he’s half–smiling _meaning it_ –

“I couldn’t –” He motions to his face. “I haven’t – since then. I mean, apparently not having a heart means tears won’t come if you feel like crying, except – never mind.” He shakes his head, wiping at his face with his free hand, then looks at her again and she feels like fainting because no one ever looked at her like _this_ , like she thinks people look at brave knights in the songs, and –

“Thank you,” he says, his voice so cracked she can barely make out the words –

And then his other hand is behind her head and his mouth is on hers and he’s kissing her like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do and she doesn’t even hesitate kissing him back even if she’s never done it before, but it just feels right and she’s wanted to since she laid eyes on him after all, and she moans into his mouth when he makes it deeper, and –

She can feel his heart beating frantically against her chest, as if reaching out to her.

She moves a hand behind his back and draws him closer.

They have to talk, she knows.

But not now.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which they talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was for _Can I prompt a missing scene from your Heart Soulmate AU? Maybe some snippets of The Talk, between part 4 and part 5?_ \- technically the next chapter was written before this one but chronologically this came first, so. Have more fluff.

“How did you realize that – that it was mine?” He asks, not long after their first kiss, as they lay down on her bed – barely enough for the two of them.

“Well. I _felt_ it, after. But – your hair. It’s the same color as its light.”

“Seriously?” He sounds like he finds it hilarious. Well, it’s not a _bad_ thing.

“Yes,” she says. “It was… just… that. But I still just, felt it. I don’t know how to explain it better, but – I did.”

“I – are you really sure?”

“I’ve been since I got it,” she says, hoping she sounds reassuring. “Honestly.” She reaches out, her hand brushing strands of golden hair from his forehead, and he sighs, curling closer, which means they’re pretty much pressed against each other without empty space in between them.

It – it feels good.

“At least _someone_ didn’t decide it was trash the moment they saw it,” he whispers, and she should maybe ask, but then he’s moved an arm around her shoulders and she figures she’ll let him tell her on his own accord. Still –

“Anyone who saw it and thought it might be such didn’t have eyes,” she says, and then her mouth is on his again, and she’s glad she’s waited this long to kiss anyone, because she’s pretty sure that if she had let any of those idiots in the camp do it, it wouldn’t have felt the same at all.

– –

Later, his voice is barely audible as he tells her about his sister. He insists that she has to know, and so she hears it, but at the end of it, she’s – she’s had his heart for so long and she’s felt how right they are for each other in the way they kissed and she _did_ notice that she hurt him during the feast.

“Are you still here?” He asks when she doesn’t move and says nothing just because she’s trying to find the right words.

Except that she never was that good at _that_.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I just told you the only woman I ever was with –”

“And are you with her _now_?”

“No,” he says. He gasps when she reaches his wrist, touching the red bruising Cersei’s nails left there, massaging the skin softly.

“Then I don’t think it’s going to be what makes me leave,” she says. “You’re really not _her_ either, for that matter. You can see it just glancing at the two of you.”

“How hilarious,” Jaime shrugs. “You and my brother are the only two people who see that.”

“Well, your brother’s known for his intellect, so I dare say I’m not too sad about being in _his_ company.” She moves a hand around his waist. “You really don’t listen that much to songs on this… heart matter, do you?”

“Never was my favorite subject,” he admits. “Why?”

– –

She clears her throat, taking a moment to try and put it into words without being distracted by how warm he feels against her or how it feels like their bodies fit together perfectly.

“A lot of them _do_ explain how is the matter with broken hearts. Or well… the ones that don’t look whole.”

“Very well. And?”

She knows she’s blushing red. Hopefully he can’t see it with just the candlelight. “People who… usually just break others’s instead, no one ever gets _theirs_. Because sometimes it’s… well. The kind of person that no one can help get better.” She doesn’t ask him, _did anyone ever get your sister’s_. “If the cracks are closed, it’s people who have been hurt deeply but not enough that they would close themselves off. And it’s usually… being hurt by one’s family, not by one’s intended or someone they thought was their intended. If it bleeds like yours…” She shrugs again. “If it bleeds like yours, it means that whoever owns it was… hurt by other people for a very long time but they never were despicable to begin with.” She’s sure she must be blushing harder now, but – well. She might as well say it all. “And their hearts disappear at the time they do so that they don’t get hurt that much more because _that_ is as much as they can take.”

He gasps, and she knows he must have reached the conclusion she had figured out a long time ago. She shakes her head, reaching for his face again. “I asked you when it went away for a reason.”

“… It makes sense, I guess,” he says, sounding like his voice is caught in his throat –

And then his mouth touches her cheek, so reverently she almost thinks she imagined it –

“Then I suppose I should thank you for looking after it,” he whispers in her ear, an ankle hooking with hers.

“It was my honor,” she replies at once, and then finds his mouth again.

And again.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which they talk some more and take a few decisions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was for _Okay, so, I dunno if people have asked, so Heart Soulmates, JB part 5?_ aaaand this happened. MOOOREEE FLUFFFF.

“I _could_ leave the Kingsguard,” Jaime says in the darkness of her room, a long time later, after they talked for so long his throat hurts. “If – if that’s something you would want.”

He can feel Brienne go tense next to him for a moment. “If it’s something _I_ would want? It should be something _you_ want,” she says. “I mean, you don’t look happy in it. And since we’re obviously – what we are, well. Having seen the king, I don’t think he’d deny that request, as… unusual as it is. But why wouldn’t I want it?”

“Why would you?” He shrugs, suddenly feeling like he’s too tired for wisecracks and for pretending he’s fine – having his heart back has been marvelous, and he hadn’t known how much he had missed it, but he feels exhausted now, feeling too much at once and not hating it when until now he’s felt utterly miserable at best worst and exactly nothing at best. “You want knighthood. I’m – no one would take you seriously if you accompanied yourself with me. I’m not as young as I used to be, I’ve wasted most of my life and my best years for Aerys and – never mind. You know.” He _did_ tell her about Cersei. Not point in hiding it. “I’m not such a great prize, at the end of it. You _did_ see how it was.”

“Your heart, you mean?” Brienne asks, moving closer, and he can feel her shaking her head. Gods, how it is that he met her not even a day ago and now it feels like he’ll _die_ if they’re parted again?

… well. She had _his damned heart_ for more than half of her life. She’d know, he supposes.

“What else?” He shrugs minutely. “For what is worth, maybe the thrice–damned gods should have given you a heart belonging to someone who’s not reviled by the entire damned kingdom. That’s what you’d deserve.”

“I’m not the _entire damned kingdom_ , which for your consideration, pretty much reviles me too. Or will revile me, at some point.” She takes a breath, and then her hand tentatively touches his. “Also, the only reproachful thing you did was to save innocent people, which is a knightly vow last I checked, which means that I will _not_ account for that when it comes to your shortcomings.”

Her fingers wrap around his. He immediately holds them back, as shameful as it feels, relishing the feeling – seven hells, he had thought he would _never_ have this with anyone else by now, and instead it’s happening and it feels too good to be true. Shit, he had thought she was magnificent when she was fighting and that was why he said _that_ , and then she had – she had treated him like she didn’t care for his bad fame, and the moment he had his heart back and looked at her he knew she was _right_ , but – but she’s also _good_ , in a way he can’t ever be, and –

“I should probably tell you,” she starts again, “that it’s not just that I didn’t think I’d ever – be in the position to have someone’s heart. Like that. But people did tell me for years that it made sense that if _I_ had to have one then it would be broken or damaged or belonging to someone just as unfortunate as me, and you know what I always told them? Or what I thought, when I couldn’t tell them.”

“To go to the seven hells straight?”

“No,” she says. “No, I told them that I could feel it was a _good_ heart underneath that red, that I saw how hard it was holding on to it, and that whoever it belonged to deserved a chance to get better. And then not only I find out it belongs to one the few people who could have given me a good fight during that melee, but also to someone who didn’t think twice before putting their _real_ knightly vows before everything else and who somehow doesn’t find me too horrible to look at? I don’t think it was a mistake. And all things considered, I’d rather have had yours. I want to think I would _deserve_ someone who’d take me seriously and understand me before anything else, not someone with just a good name. Most of the lords in that tourney had one. Most of the knights who bet on my maidenhead –”

“ _What_?” He asks, suddenly feeling enraged at the bare thought that someone could have done it to someone so – so _nice_ as she is, for –

“It never came to pass because I wouldn’t have bedded anyone that wasn’t… _you_ , in retrospective.” He sees her smiling in the moonlight. It’s a prettier smile than anyone who might bet on her damned maidenhead would think. “Anyway, most of those knights had better fame than you. Somehow, that doesn’t seem much of a bargain right now. If leaving the Kingsguard is what _you_ want, good. But don’t assume that I would want you with me out of obligation. I really don’t think I can conceive it.”

She blushes a little at that, her cheeks turning darker under all those freckles, and suddenly he feels like grinning back at her, for the first time in _years_ –

“Oh, you cannot _conceive_ it? How so?”

“You feel right,” she says at once. “I – I knew the moment I realized. And you felt that too, didn’t you?”

He nods, knowing it would be nonsensical to deny it.

“So,” he says, “if I do leave the Kingsguard, I will most likely still be disgraced, and as much as my father would want to, I doubt I could keep my title. You know that, right?”

“I care naught for titles,” Brienne replies, her free hand tentatively going to the back of his head. “I have one and I have an entire island coming with it, and my father wouldn’t protest knowing that I found you for good. I don’t need another castle or gold. And I’m already half as disgraced as you according to them anyway, am I not? I doubt people would take any more seriously someone who won a damned melee for _one_ position and didn’t get it.”

He thinks about it. He would leave and never see this blasted castle again, good riddance to it. He wouldn’t have to endure his sister’s stares or her nails clawing at his skin. He would – probably travel the continent and slay bandits the way he dreamed of when Ser Arthur knighted him. He would be with someone who feels _right_ the way no one else ever did and somehow seems to want him with her, someone that he’s wanted to kiss senseless since they stopped kissing, someone who held his damned heart for _years_ and never saw anything wrong with it, and he would – oh gods, he would get to kiss her in front of everyone without having to hide, and she’s not looking at him like she’d ever send him away for anything –

“All right,” he whispers, “then I _will_ leave it somehow. I heard honest hedge knights are a rare commodity these days.”

She moves closer, smiling against his mouth. “I guess Westeros could do with two more then, couldn’t it?”

He seals it pressing their lips together again.

It could. It definitely could.

Same as now that he thinks about it, _he_ could have done with his own knight.

Good thing she found him on her own.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which they get married and Selwyn knows he's going to hate his daughter's father in law.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was for _I'm really enjoying the JB heart fic — thanks so much for writing! If you're interested in showing more of Tywin or Selywn, I'd be interested to see how that plays out._ well, have the wedding and the most awkward pre-wedding dinner ever.

Out of _all_ the people that heart could have belonged to, the last one Selwyn Tarth would have assumed was Jaime Lannister.

Except that it apparently _was_ , and he had pretty much fallen off his chair the moment he received Brienne’s raven informing him of the fact.

That stated, Brienne had sounded happy in that letter, and she had said that they were planning to go around the continent righting injustices for a while but she would be in touch, and – well. Selwyn knows his daughter. He wouldn’t have sent her off if he hadn’t, and when he had received another raven from King’s Landing informing the realm that yes, Ser Jaime had left the Kingsguard in a unprecedented move and _no_ , he wouldn’t take back his titles, he had just smiled and put it away.

He had spent the last year doing the same if he heard of anything those two apparently did – considering that everything he hears of both his daughter and her _intended_ consists in saving your maidens, protecting innocent poor peasants and the likes, he supposes her life is going exactly the way she wanted it to.

And then she had showed up on Tarth with Ser Jaime in tow telling him that they wished to marry and they certainly couldn’t do it in Casterly Rock now, could they, and so Selwyn had organized a ceremony as quickly as possible because he _does_ want his daughter to not have a shabby wedding, she deserves it.

In the moon following their arrival, he hadn’t even needed to give Ser Jaime any kind of talk, because the way he looks at Brienne – gods, that’s how he used to look at his beloved late wife and how _anyone_ he’s ever met who was utterly smitten looked at their intended, and it’s – he had despaired of Brienne ever finding anyone that would look at her like that. Not that she doesn’t seem equally smitten, and so he hadn’t pried and just told Ser Jaime that he was looking forward to having another man in the house and left it at that.

He had let them arrange the invitations. They had told him that only Tyrion Lannister was invited, of Ser Jaime’s relatives.

Which is why Selwyn is now cursing all the gods he can name, because the last thing he had expected was that _Tywin Lannister_ would show up uninvited on the eve of the wedding demanding that he attend, and what could he do, refuse? _That_ , he couldn’t.

But he could avoid both Brienne and Ser Jaime unwanted conversations with him, so he told them to just find an excuse to not attend dinner and that’s why he’s sitting in front of _Tywin Lannister_ , the two of them alone around Evenfall Hall’s main table.

Lannister is looking down at his fish dinner as if it’s barely sufficient – here it’s a delicacy, but Selwyn supposes that both Casterly Rock and King’s Landing offer more extravagant dishes.

“Will tomorrow’s banquet feature… this?” Lannister asks, sounding polite but showing what Selwyn is sure is mid contempt. He doesn’t take it personally, as Ser Jaime told him to – _my father tends to treat anyone around him with contempt. Don’t mind it_.

“Of course not,” Selwyn replies. “I have planned that for weeks, so it will certainly be more elaborate. Sadly, this is the best we could do with… little notice.”

Lannister stops chewing for a moment, then nods, obviously acknowledging the dig. Gods, Brienne _will_ owe him at least the first grandchild named after him for this.

“I understand,” he says. He’s certainly not refusing to eat the fish, though. “And I assume you have no… issue with this union?”

Selwyn _had_ expected the question. “No,” he says. “Of course not. Never mind that, well, the gods took care of that, and I wouldn’t go against their will, but – my daughter suffered enough to know that she wouldn’t have found some husband easily if trying to arrange it, and she knows her mind. I wanted her to be happy, not miserable. And she seems plenty happy with your son, so I have no issue.”

Lannister seems to have trouble processing what he just said.

Selwyn has a feeling that the concept of _letting your child marry for love_ is completely foreign to him.

“And you don’t mind that he has technically nothing to his name?”

_Ah_ , Selwyn understands, _here it goes. He wants to know if I’ll ask for a cut of the gold, doesn’t he?_

“My lord,” he says, “this isn’t a very large island, nor the richest in Westeros, but we want for nothing and we are… maybe not the Tyrells, but my chests aren’t empty, either.” He’s about to remind Lannister that more Targaryen kings set foot on here in the olden days than in Casterly, but he decides not to. “Brienne has no need for your title or your gold. Again, she’s happy with him. He seems exceedingly happy with her, and after he told me why he killed his king, I was convinced his bad fame was unwarranted for and that he’s good for her. Same as I think, she’s good for him.” He wonders if he should say it… and then he decides that there’s no point in _not_ doing it. He eats a bite of his own fish. “Also, I _did_ see your son’s heart when it appeared in here.”

“You did,” Lannister says, sounding… carefully flat. He doesn’t look happy about it.

“It wasn’t _perfect_ ,” Selwyn shrugs, “but it was obviously a good one. One could feel it just being near it. I told her to take good care of it and she swore she would, and I can see that she’s still doing it and he’s certainly not against it. I knew the moment I saw it that it belonged to someone that could have made her happy if only given a chance to. And – my daughter might not look like it, but she would go any length for the people she loves. They’re a good match. I’ll be glad to give her to him. She’s been unhappy for a long time, and he told me he also had been. Maybe they should have a chance to make up for it. Does that satisfy any lingering question, my lord?”

“I suppose so,” Lannister says, and doesn’t talk anymore as he eats that fish looking like he’s swallowing poison.

Not Selwyn’s business.

But gods, Brienne _will_ owe him for this.

And he’s so _not_ going to tell Lannister of what both his daughter and Ser Jaime had asked the septon to change, for their ceremony.

– –

The next day, Selwyn doesn’t escort his daughter to the altar.

Rather, he waits next to her as she stands next to it, wearing both a blue dress that actually _fit_ her, and her sword. She isn’t wearing any cloak, but Selwyn is holding one with the Tarth colors on it.

He glances at Tywin Lannister’s face when the doors of the sept open and Ser Jaime walks in wearing a crimson Lannister cloak, escorted by _his brother_ , who is the one who gives _him_ away to Brienne.

At _that_ , he looks like he has swallowed two lemons.

Selwyn glances at him again when Brienne divests Ser Jaime of his cloak and puts the blue and pink one on his shoulder.

He looks like he has swallowed _five_ of those lemons.

And when they exchange vows and Ser Jaime tells her that his heart is hers and will always be, he still looks like he could throw up but also like he’s enraged _and_ deeply irritated that there’s nothing he can do to stop this marriage.

For a moment, Selwyn feels sad for him – a parent, he thinks, should be happy at their son or daughter’s wedding, not… whatever Tywin Lannister is right now.

Then again, if he apparently can’t conceive it, too bad for him.

He glances back at the altar, where the septon has bound Brienne’s wrist to Ser Jaime’s and they’re exchanging the final vows, and when they kiss, a _real_ one, he lets himself smile widely.

If Tywin Lannister can’t be happy for them, sure as the seven hells _he_ will.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which Jaime gets the experience of holding his soulmate's heart, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaand this was for a last anon who asked for _The ending for JB soulmate heart thing?_ and I comply. This isn't _really_ it because I had a request for a Tyrion POV on it but in light of the next fic in these series I'm about to post I thought I'd write it after wrapping up that one so it's going to happen at some point soon - that said I'm not excluding going back to it for more snippets so idk but here we are for now. ;)

He’s usually not the first to wake up in between the two of them, but as Jaime blinks his eyes open, the dawn’s sun rays coming in from their window, he feels like there’s something burning hot right against his chest.

Wait.

_What_ —

He opens his eyes fully, looks at where the heat come from, and almost falls from the bed and doesn’t shout a thousand curses just because there’s Brienne’s arm around his stomach and he can feel her behind him, warm and steady and _strong_ —

And without a heartbeat.

She’s without a heartbeat because _her heart is right in fucking front of him_ , and he knows it is because it couldn’t be anyone else’s, and _of course_ it’s blue and pink and perfectly whole, beating steadily as he reached for it.

It’s warm, the same way she is, and he wonders _why_ it’s here now because it definitely is in no need to heal, it’s exactly as it’s supposed to be and he feels that at once, and that he’s holding it just after their wedding night just doesn’t make sense, it’s not like they hadn’t bedded each other before —

“Jaime?” Brienne asks sleepily, and he moves away from her reluctantly as she sits up. “Something feels weird — _oh_.”

“Yes, _oh_ ,” he parrots, cupping her heart between his hands. “Have a clue of why this is happening? Because last I checked if we already found each other and you’re fine there’s no literal reason for it?”

“I’m fine, yes,” she smiles, “more than fine.” She stares down at her own heart for a moment, then she smirks. “I think it has to do with the fact that yesterday before I fell asleep I was thinking that it was a pity that you never had, uhm, the… heart experience, I suppose.”

“The _heart experience_.”

“I don’t know how else to call it,” she shakes her head. “But — oh, just — sit back, _hold it_ for a minute and see what I mean.”

“Costs me nothing,” he says, and does it, figuring that it won’t hurt —

He sits up, back against the wall, closes his eyes, holding the heart in between his hands, close to his own chest —

Oh.

It’s warm, he thinks, _so very much_ , and then he concentrates on how steadily it beats between his palms, and then a moment later he’s _floored_ with that warmth, feeling it going to his fingers and then throughout his veins, and no, wait, it’s not just _that_ , it’s a whole other sensation that for a moment feels like happiness but then no, no, it’s how _he_ feels when he looks at her, and then the moment he realizes that it’s actually how _she_ feels about him instead he feels tears burn his eyes because it’s _so much_ and so steady and so whole and so _sure_ , he has to open his eyes and look at her because it’s _too much_ —

“It couldn’t be like this for you,” he whispers. “It couldn’t, I didn’t know you —”

“Maybe not,” she says, “but it felt warm for _me_ ,” she shakes her head. “And every time I held it I just — I knew you were in pain but I also knew you were _good_. And — you know, I used to talk to it.”

“You _did_?” He snorts, trying to wipe his eyes. “And what, pray tell?”

“Whatever passed through my mind if I had no better option,” she says. “But a lot of times — this sounds embarrassing, but every time someone told me it was obvious I would get a broken heart, I’d come back up and tell it that if I heard anyone saying such a thing to _you_ after we met I wouldn’t have let them.”

“Wait,” he has to laugh, “is this why you broke the nose of that asshole who was wondering why you’d marry _the_ _kingslayer_ during the feast?”

“Maybe,” she says, “and I _know_ you punched Ronnet Connington when I wasn’t looking. Your brother told me.”

“… Guilty as charged,” Jaime shrugs, not even trying to deny it. “That said…” He shakes his head. “As much as I’m enjoying this, I don’t think it’s very fair to you that I’d keep it any longer. I like it best _inside_ you, I think.”

“I’m not clothed now, am I?” She smiles again, as if she knows something _he_ doesn’t.

He decides that he’s being paranoid and places it against her breast — it slots back past her skin at once, glowing blue and pink under her skin one last time, and then he feels it beat again as it should be —

That is, until he realizes that he’s feeling giddy and it’s not coming from _him_ , it’s not —

“Seven fucking hells,” he whispers as he just feels how _glad_ she is that she’s with him as she grasps his hand, “you aren’t telling me that —”

“Took me a while to feel that,” she says. “I think it started when I told you we should be married just after we killed that bandit at the inn of the Kneeling Man and you accepted and the morning after you said you thought it was healed.”

_Oh_.

“You mean that — if both of ours are doing fine and if one of us had held the other’s —”

“I couldn’t know for sure, but I knew you weren’t feeling what I felt most of the time. While _I_ could. That was why I thought you should, well. Know it.”

He shakes his head again, moving closer to her, his hand covering her chest as hers covers his, and she probably _can_ feel that he just wants to kiss her and for her to ravish him properly _again_ —

“I think,” Brienne says, “that our fathers can wait for us.”

“You mean, for breakfast?” He smiles as she moves on top of him.

“For one, _my_ father said that since he spent the night before the wedding distracting yours, as long as we name one grandchild after him, he was willing to do it again _now_.”

“It’s an entirely acceptable bargain,” Jaime smiles. “I wasn’t going to name any of my children after _my_ father anyway.”

“Then he can deal with him,” Brienne smiles back, and then she’s kissing him again and he’s kissing her back, and —

“You know,” he whispers, realizing that he never actually _told_ her. “I heard you once.”

“You _did_? When?”

“I don’t know. When Tommen was born. I made nothing of it for a time, but — you said you’d find me. It was the one time since I lost it that — that I didn’t feel wholly miserable,” he admits, looking up into her pretty, large blue eyes —

And then she smiles wide enough to show a bit of her crooked teeth, leaning down —

“Then I guess it’s time I make sure you’re nowhere near miserable, right?”

“My lady,” he grins back at her, “I’m at your full disposal, if you’ll have me.”

“Always,” she says, and leans back down to crash her mouth against his, and he knows that they most likely won’t get downstairs at all, and it doesn’t matter because she feels _perfect_ and he can hear how that whole, beautiful heart of hers is beating right in time with his and he knows she can feel it, too —

Oh, he’s glad that he had never lost it for good, after all.

And he’s even happier that out of everyone who could have found it, _she_ did.

End.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See you all with the tyrion/bronn prequel in a few and the tyrion extra pov... sometime soon. xD


End file.
